


Night Watch

by Barb Cummings (Rahirah)



Series: The Barbverse [54]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M, Pregnancy, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pie makes everything better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Watch

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same universe as _A Raising in the Sun_, _Necessary Evils_, et. al. (See the [Barbverse Timeline](http://sleepingjaguars.com/buffy/viewpage.php?page=timeline) for specifics.) It contains spoilers for previous works in the series.

As always, she wakes up an hour or two before dawn, shaking and gasping and clutching his shoulders so hard it bruises. As always, he holds her till the storm passes. He doesn't ask her what the dreams are about anymore. It only upsets her more to remember. So he holds her in one of the increasingly few positions she's comfortable, strokes her hair and murmurs comforting nonsense, until finally she gulps and sighs and scrubs the tears off her cheeks with the corner of the sheet.

"Want anything?" he asks.

She looks up at him. Big haunted grey eyes, little, hopeful smile. "Pie?"

He crawls out of bed and stumbles downstairs, and returns bearing pie -- a generous slice of pumpkin left over from Thanksgiving, garnished with Cool Whip. At the sight of it her face lights up and his chest swells with atavistic pride: he is a mighty hunter, slightly under the Lord's radar, bringing sustenance to his mate. He has also remembered the accompanying glass of milk, which makes him a prince among vampires and a god among husbands.

He curls up beside her as she balances the plate on her burgeoning tummy and tucks in, watching her eat. The changes in her body fascinate and arouse him -- for the first five months she barely showed, but in the last two she's blossomed. His sleek graceful Slayer is plump and rosy now, with full cheeks and lush tits and a belly that waxes daily rounder. His cock stiffens at the thought, and he places a hand on the curve of her abdomen. Their son, restless as his mother, squirms beneath his palm, and he lays his cheek against her belly, listening to the tiny heartbeat, as slow and inhuman as his own.

Buffy's nightmares are of demons ripping their way free of her womb, of small heads smashed red against the stone. His own are of something else entirely. _She who faces death by torture for each life beneath her breast..._ He is an only child for a reason: _Another will kill her_, the doctors said, and his father had listened. Any other enemy he could face, fight, tear to pieces, but the flutter and kick that could steal her from him is flesh of their flesh, and already he loves it.

She sets the plate aside and covers his hand with hers, fingers twining. "Better?" he asks.

"Pie makes everything better," she says solemnly, and smiles.

He re-arranges her pillows and together they burrow under the covers, spooned up together with his arm wrapped protectively around her belly. She wriggles her warm bum into his crotch, and there's no half-measures about his erection any longer. She makes drowsy noises of pleasure as he enters her, and their lovemaking is warm and slow in the honey-gold lamplight.

When all was said and done, his mother outlived both son and husband, and he's not sure how comforting an irony that is. He holds the woman and the child-to-be in his arms tight, and wonders, as sleep takes him once again, if his father ever brought his mother pie.

END


End file.
